Harry Potter and the Grey Society
by DP1218
Summary: Post OOP, AU. Greatly injured, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. Free from his father, Draco has decided that he’s not dark or light, but grey. What happens when Draco and Harry reach an understanding? How will his friends take it? NOT HPDM SLASH!
1. Fight and Flight

**Description:** Post OOP, AU. Greatly injured, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. Free from his father, Draco has decided that he's not dark or light, but a nice gray. What happens when Draco and Harry reach an understanding? How will Ron and Hermione, now dating, take it? Not Slash.

**  
Disclaimer:** Everything that appears in one of JK Rowling's books is copyright her. Everything that appears in any of the movies is copyright Warner Bros. Anything that isn't in them is mine. If someone wants to use something in their fan fic, it's fine by me, just give a little credit in the disclaimer, eh?

Chapter One: Fight and Flight

It was a quiet night on Privet Drive. Unfortunately, that wasn't because everything was peaceful for everyone who lived there. No, it was because Harry Potter's uncle, one Vernon Dursley, decided over winter break that a sound proofed basement would be a new necessary commodity in the house. It allowed Dudley to play his music without the rest of the house hearing. But a room off to the side…it had other uses as well. Such as doing Harry a 'favor' and making him a normal part of the family.

Harry should've known that something was wrong as soon as they got back and Uncle Vernon told him that he had a new bedroom. Once Harry was down there, and saw that the room consisted of his bed and no windows, he protested, saying that the other room was fine, and citing Hedwig as a concern.

"Boy, you'll be greatful! And now, for our other present to you - we've decided that it was high time you were a functioning member of this family! But you can't be a functioning member of this family with that freakish-ness of yours. We hoped you'd grow out of it, but it seems like it needs extra help to get out," Vernon said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"My friends'll show up and make you sorry," Harry warned.

"They won't if they can't hear you scream," Vernon sneered. He raised a meaty fist and buried it into Harry's chest.

And so the beatings began. Vernon left his face, arms, and legs alone, as he didn't want the neighbors seeing anything that they shouldn't have. But his chest and back? They were always covered up by the overly large clothing that Dudley discarded to him. So they were fair game. Two days in, Harry started having trouble breathing. But he kept himself sane – Dumbledore promised that the Order would be keeping an eye on him, and if he didn't send them a message for three days they would investigate.

Day three went by. Then another three went by. By the end of the first week, with no word from the order, Harry became desperate. On day eight, Vernon was emboldened with the lack of word from Harry's wizarding friends and almost beat him to death. He might have killed him, except Harry's magic kicked in and burnt his hands. For four days Vernon stayed away from Harry, tending to his burns and Harry was allowed to heal.

Meanwhile, for nourishment, there was another cat flap put in the door. Harry had two bowls, one to…well, relieve himself in, and another for water. He got a specific store of food per day, usually whatever was left over from dinner and breakfast the day before (which, judging from how much Vernon and Dudley ate, was never much). Once per day his water bowl and his food plate were taken away, and replaced. Harry always saved the meat for Hedwig, who wasn't happy being cooped up in her cage. But just when things were getting better, Vernon apparently got another idea. Now instead of being pummeled, he was beaten with a belt. Harry tried to fight back, but Vernon was more than three times his size.

"You'll show up, eh?" Harry muttered. He was beaten and bruised, and was having problems breathing. Above all, he felt betrayed. WHY hadn't the Order shown up to protect him?

After two weeks of this new round of beatings, Harry had lost hope. The only comfort he had was that if he was going to die, hopefully his magic would act out again and stop his uncle from making one blow too many. The other comfort he had was that despite the beatings, he always fought to the very last breath. Vernon had taken to tying him down for a while, but now didn't bother. After the lack of food and the beatings were taking hold of his body, Harry was having issues fighting him off successfully. Even his magic was feeling tired. He knew that Vernon had gone out tonight, from an overheard conversation of Dudley's (through the cat flap of course) and just hoped that his uncle would be too drunk tonight to go down to Harry's…erm…room.

About thirty seconds after that thought went through his head, his door opened.

_Goddamn it._

Harry's thought was punctuated with a weary sigh as he gathered all his remaining strength to fight his uncle. Even if he got beaten, he swore to himself he would never stop fighting.

"Harry…what a bad nephew you've been. Taking up space and food like you have," his uncle said with a slurred voice.

He was clearly piss drunk. Harry wasn't sure if this was good or bad; maybe it would be easier to get away from him this time? Regardless, Harry decided to remain silent for the moment and see what was happening while his mind whirled trying to find a way to use this to his advantage.

"Boy!" His uncle slurred, focusing watery eyes on him. "I've put lots of my time aside to do my best to stamp that…that abnormality out of your system. It takes a lot of time and effort for me, so it's about time you started repaying me."

Harry blinked at him again, eyes darting to either side of the man to see if he could escape around him.

"So be a good boy now, and drop your pants."

Harry stopped looking around and looked up at his uncle, stunned.

"Excuse me?" he demanded hotly.

"Don't take that tone with me boy. DROP YOUR PANTS!" his uncle roared.

"No! That…that's…just NO!" Harry roared back.

"THEN I'LL TAKE THEM OFF!"

Harry's uncle launched himself at the beaten boy, hitting him and attempting to pull his pants down. Harry was screaming, and wishing for his wand. Harry's uncle ripped his pants down, and stood up, undoing his own belt.

"Vernon! Stop!" Harry cried, tears of fear rolling down his face.

"Oh, I'll stop. After I get exactly what I want boy," Vernon sneered. He managed to get his belt off, and was starting on his pants when panic overtook Harry.

_Ohnoohnoohno. Ohmygodno. He's going to rape me! NONONONO_ the uncontrolled thoughts raced through Harry's head as he fought with every bit of strength he had.

"GET ON YOUR BACK BOY!" Vernon yelled. He reached for Harry, and behind the panic, one tiny voice in Harry's head told him that the second he was on his back, it would be over. He would have lost, and Vernon would have him.

** FIGHT **that voice yelled. **ARE YOU A WIZARD OR NOT?**

_I don't have my wand_ Harry's thoughts continued to panic as Vernon approached him. Harry's eyes flicked between his uncle's legs, and he saw just how much Vernon was enjoying himself.

**TRY**

He knew it wouldn't work, he did. But maybe, just maybe…

"STUPIFY!" Harry yelled, burying a fist in his uncle's gut. Much to his surprise, there was a flash of red light, and his uncle fell backwards, propelled by the punch, completely stunned.

For a minute or two, Harry couldn't move. That was when a few realizations hit him. Uncle Vernon was knocked out. The door was open. It seemed to be late at night. The Ministry would probably pick up on him doing that wandless magic. Wait. He just did wandless magic!

Harry looked at his uncle again before grabbing a new pair of pants and throwing them on. Without another look back, Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and was out the door. He stopped in his uncle's workroom to grab two pins, and ran as fast as his beaten body would let him upstairs to the cupboard he used to sleep in. Keeping an eye on the stairs into the basement in case the spell wore off too soon, Harry expertly picked the lock on the door, mentally thanking Fred and George Weasley for teaching him how to pick locks. The door swung open, and Harry pulled open his trunk, and grabbed his wand and his invisibility cloak. Harry dragged the trunk outside, and was about to shrink it when he paused. It would be better, he decided, to drag the trunk to Mrs. Figg's house, floo to Diagon Alley, and stay the night. With that decided, Harry put his cloak on and went to the old squib's house.

Once he got there, he picked her lock, and as quietly as he could, he crept into her house and snuck to her fireplace. A fire was lit, he knew, if only to keep the cats warm, and just in case a member of the Order came in the middle of the night. Just as he got there, one of her cats opened it's eyes and ran off.

"Crap!" Harry cursed in a whisper.

"Who's there?"

Harry grabbed an urn from on top of the fireplace, and saw the sparkling sand inside it. He grabbed a handful, threw it into the fire, and put it back just as he heard Mrs. Figg coming down the stairs.

"Diagon Alley," he whispered as he pulled his trunk and Hedwig's cage into the fire with him. He spun away.

* * *

As Arabella Figg came downstairs, she saw her door was open.

"I'll have to have a word with Dumbledore," she muttered. "If they need to guard the boy, fine, but they can at least shut the door!"

* * *

Harry spun around and around and around before finally falling out of a fireplace. He looked up, expecting to see Tom from The Leaky Cauldron staring at him, possibly offering him a room. Instead, he saw something different, albeit familiar.

_Borgen and Burke's. I'm in Knockturn Alley. At least I'm close to where I should be…so long as I don't get attacked._

Harry crept outside, keeping an ear out for the owners of the shop. As he got out there, he paused, looking around, before starting to make his way towards Diagon Alley.

Or at least trying to. After he got out of the store, his adrenaline was wearing off. He was running…then walking…and two stores down from Borgen, he was panting, trying his best to drag his trunk along with him. Finally, he decided maybe he should sit for a minute. He let Hedwig out of her cage, and she hopped onto his arm, hooting as if with worry.

"Go get a good meal Hedwig. I know you'll be able to find me, no matter where I am."

She hooted again uncertainly before Harry raised his arm, and she flew off. Another few minutes later, Harry unsuccessfully tried to drag his stuff to Diagon Alley. He did succeed in dragging his stuff off the main road and into a deserted alley, but after that he didn't see or feel much at all.

_This isn't the best place to sleep…_ was the last thought that ran through his head before his body collapsed from exhaustion.

* * *

_Harry Potter, in Knockturn Alley_

The woman levitated the boy with her wand, and moved his greasy hair to the side. She looked at him harder, as his shirt slid up a bit, and noticed the bruised body underneath.

"Well, this won't do, now will it?" she asked the air. "But this could be exactly what we've needed." One wave of her wand later, and the broom, trunk, and owl cage he had vanished, reappearing in a room miles upon miles away.

"And now you. You need to be healed up Harry Potter, I believe you and I have many things we can do for each other."

A smirk crawled up on the woman's face, as she apparated him back to her home, and told one of her house elves to get him cleaned up, while ordering another house elf to make the empty suite on the third floor ready for their guest, as she didn't see him leaving for some time now.

"With your help, we can rise above all the fools, Harry Potter. You and us both."


	2. A Proposal

**Description:** Post OOP, AU. Greatly injured, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. Free from his father, Draco has decided that he's not dark or light, but a nice gray. What happens when Draco and Harry reach an understanding? How will Ron and Hermione, now dating, take it? Not Slash.

**Disclaimer:** Everything that appears in one of JK Rowling's books is copyright her. Everything that appears in any of the movies is copyright Warner Bros. Anything that isn't in them is mine. If someone wants to use something in their fan fic, it's fine by me, just give a little credit in the disclaimer, eh?

Chapter Two: A Proposal

When Harry awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was in a warm, soft, comfortable bed. When he reached for his glasses, he realized something else – he didn't hurt. Startled, he stopped putting on his glasses, and instead slowly stretched his body. For the first time in weeks, nothing hurt him.

_Maybe the Order finally came and got me,_ he thought to himself happily as he finally put his glasses on. Now able to see, he could look around this room.

The first thing he noticed was he was laying in a king size four poster bed with crimson hangings. The mattress was soft – softer even than the mattresses at Hogwarts. The comforter was a darker shade of crimson with gold thread workings in it. His multitude of pillows (he was surprised to see six of them on his bed, which was a first. He only had one flat one at the Dursley's, and at Hogwarts he had two) matched the blanket, two were done in gold silk, two in crimson silk, and the remaining two pillows had a design in crimson and gold that matched the comforter. Looking down, he was no longer wearing the dirty cast offs from the Dursley's, instead he was in a pair of comfortable black silk pajama bottoms. When he opened the curtains, his eyes widened.

The room itself was spectacular. The walls were a light gold-ish cream color, while the plush carpeting was a dark crimson that matched his bed. To one side was an armoire, sort of like the one he had at Hogwarts, except the wood was better quality and there were intricate carvings all over it. On either side of the bed was a night stand, with the coloring, wood, and carvings to match the armoire. At the foot of his bed was his trunk, and on the other side of the room was a large desk, with bookshelves on either side. One set of shelves, he saw, had all of his books on it, and left room for more books. The other shelf was neatly filled with other books. Harry was tempted to look at them, but was instead drawn to the fireplace. Above the fireplace was a portrait with a blank canvas in it. Under the portrait was a katana in a crimson sheath with phoenixes wrought in gold on it.

Harry turned back to the bed, and noticed for the first time a pair of black slippers and a black robe with gold embroidery that matched his pants. He put them on, and then looked appraisingly at the two doors that led out of the room. The first one, he noticed, led to a bathroom. He realized he was clean somehow, and shrugging it off to magic decided to explore the bathroom later. He walked through the other door to see a sitting room that looked like a mini version of the Gryffindor Common Room. Squashy arm chairs sat in a circle around the fireplace, with a couch on the other side. Like the bedroom, the entire room was done in crimson and gold.

"Master Potter?"

Harry spun around to see a house elf standing behind him.

"Erm…yes?" Harry asked, confused.

"Master Potter, I is Dusti. I is to be taking care of you. How is Master Potter feeling?" the house elf asked, making a curtsy.

"Great, actually. Better than I've felt in weeks," Harry answered truthfully.

"Dusti is glad sir. Dusti is instructed to make sure Master Potter eats. Is Shepard's Pie acceptable to Master Potter?" Dusti asked.

"Shepard's pie is fine, and you can call me Harry. Erm, Dusti, where am I?" Harry asked.

Dusti snapped her fingers and a table for two appeared.

"Dusti will inform Mistress that you are awake. Mistress wants to dine with Master Potter. Dusti will be back shortly."

"Wait! You didn't –" Harry was cut off by the loud popping noise of Dusti disappearing. Harry sighed and shook his head, he still didn't know where he was. Looking back through the open door, he saw his wand sitting on his nightstand. He went back to his bedroom and picked it up. Upon touching it, he immediately felt better and safer. At least with his wand, he could defend himself. He walked back into the sitting room and was just wondering if he should continue exploring or wait when one of the three doors opened, and in glided one of the last people he had expected to see.

"Mister Potter. So nice to see that you're well."

Narcissa Malfoy, clad regally in a floor length dark blue dress was facing Harry Potter. The dress was sleeveless, and despite the clearly expensive cut and fabric, it gave off an air of being a casual outfit. Harry immediately raised his wand and pointed it at her.

"Where am I? Why are you here?" he demanded.

"There there, Mister Potter. Is that a way to treat someone who has taken care of you for the past week?" Narcissa asked mildly. Harry's wand tip dropped for a second before he shook his head and pointed it steadily at her again.

"But you're all Death Eaters," he said. "Voldemort is trying to kill me, why would you help me?"

"You're mistaken, Mister Potter," Narcissa replied coolly. "My husband, well, now that he's a criminal, ex husband, was a death eater. However, since you conveniently put him in prison, Draco and I are now free to not follow the Dark Lord. May we talk, Mister Potter, as we eat? I'm sure you must be famished. Look, I'll give you my wand so you're armed and I'm not. Would that make you feel any better?" Narcissa tapped her wand on her left arm and clearly cast Finite Incantium before passing her wand to Harry.

"Look, I just cast a spell that would dispel any glamours on my arm. I am not a death eater. There is no mark."

Harry nodded and put her wand on the floor next to him. His wand he slipped into his robe pocket as the food appeared, and Narcissa motioned for him to eat. Despite Moody's words "Constant Vigilance" going through his head, he was indeed starved, and began to eat anyways.

"What is it you would like to talk about?" Harry asked.

"A trade of services, if you will," Narcissa replied. "Give us the chance to prove that the Malfoy name is better than Lucius has made it out to be. Let us show that the Malfoys are a noble house and a noble family, and allow us the chance to help fix the damage that Lucius did. In return, we offer you room and board befitting one of your status, along with training in management and book keeping, along with anything else you would like. Consider our healing you a gesture of good will."

"Why not go to Dumbledore?" asked Harry, who was caught off guard but still suspicious.

"We do not trust Dumbledore," Narcissa replied firmly. "Dumbledore, while his goal is different than the Dark Lord's, is just as bad. He is manipulative, treating this war like a chess game, prodding pieces where he wants them to go, and sometimes forcefully moving them if necessary. We do not wish to simply become a pawn for the other side. And we also wish to help you escape Dumbledore's clutches as well."

"He just does it because he knows what's best," Harry replied automatically, without thinking. But as he said it, there was a different, more contemplative look on his face. He thought about a lot of things. Like Dumbledore keeping Sirius locked up, even while it was driving the man crazy. And Dumbledore sending him to the Dursley's time and time again, despite the abuse he received while he was there. Dumbledore never telling him much about his parents, Dumbledore not giving him information last year he should have had, Dumbledore forcing him to take more occlumency lessons with Snape despite the hatred the headmaster KNEW Snape had towards him. All of this and more ran through his head, as a small voice that had been whispering in his head since last year began to speak up again.

"I need proof," Harry said, dazed. "Proof I can trust you, proof that Dumbledore is harming me…"

"All I can give you now for proof you can trust me is that I could have killed you at any point in the past week, if we were death eaters, we could have handed you to the Dark Lord, but we didn't. As for proof of your harm, what if we went on a trip to Gringotts, and had the Goblins there discuss your financials with you? Do you even know how much you have?"

"I've seen my vault," Harry said, trailing off.

"What do you think of this? After you dine, you can get dressed, and you, myself, and Draco will go to Gringotts so you can speak with the goblins there. A neutral party which should, if my suspicions are correct, prove my point."

"Draco…" Just the word showed a dripping hatred from Harry's mouth.

Narcissa sighed.

"Funny, Draco had the same reaction to you. You could learn a lot from each other, you know. Perhaps you need to come to an understanding."

The table disappeared as soon as Harry finished eating, and as Narcissa rose, her chair disappeared as well. She snapped her fingers and Harry immediately rose, the chair he was just sitting on vanishing. Narcissa didn't seem to be snapping at him though.

"Dusti!" she called. The house elf immediately appeared in front of them.

"What does Mistress require of Dusti?" she asked.

"Dusti, please summon Draco and tell him to come into Mister Potter's room," Narcissa ordered.

"Yes Mistress." With another pop, Dusti disappeared, and a minute later Harry's door opened to reveal the one face he hated more that almost anyone.

Draco Malfoy.

The boy's pale face was twisted in a sneer, his hair neatly cut and his gray eyes flashing.

"Dusti!" Narcissa called again. Once again, the house elf appeared.

"Yes Mistress?" She asked with a curtsy.

"Dusti, please retrieve the pensive I left on my sitting room table," Narcissa said. Two pops later, the elf popped back, holding it.

"Mother, I think I have more important things to do than play nurse to Potter here," Draco said with a disgusted tone of voice.

"Whoever asked you to?" Harry retorted. "It's not like I need it."

"Only thanks to my Mum, Potty, and you shouldn't forget that. Or is the way REAL wizards live foreign to you? After all, your best friends are a weasel and a mud-blood."

Harry's wand was out and pointed at Malfoy's face.

"TAKE THAT BACK MALFOY!" he roared. Malfoy's wand was out and pointed at Harry.

"Or what?" he sneered. "You think you can beat me without your mud blood friend and your Weasel backing you up?"

"Damn you Malfoy! STU-"

"ENOUGH!" Both boys looked over at Narcissa, who gave them both a glare that was so fierce they lowered their wands without even thinking about it.

"As of this second, you two are living in the same house! Even if it's only for a week while I make sure Harry is better, you will be across the hall from each other! Now, I am leaving the room, and you two had better come to an understanding by the time I get back! Harry, my wand."

Wide eyed, Harry picked her wand up from the floor next to him and handed it to her wordlessly.

"Thank you. Now you two be nice." The glare she gave both boys with those words clearly added the term 'or else' to the end of the sentence as she swooped out the door.

"I don't need this," Malfoy spat. He tried to walk out the door, only to find it locked. And nothing he did could unlock it. Harry even tried to get it to unlock with parseltounge. No luck. The boys eventually sat down across from each other silently. After about a half hour of ignoring each other, Harry finally gave in and broke the silence.

"Your mum has a glare worthy of McGonagall or Snape you know," he said quietly.

"Those two will only dock points and give detentions though," Malfoy reluctantly replied. "There's no telling what my mother would do to us."

"True for McGonagall. Not for Snape in my case. If it was up to him, he would've Crucio'ed me about five or six times over by now," Harry muttered.

"Snape would never! The only reason he doesn't like you is because you act like you're above the rules, and because someone needs to teach you humility! You're Dumbledore's favorite," Draco snapped.

"Some favoritism he shows," Harry grumbled, but Draco didn't stop.

"You're the Golden Boy of Gryffindor, everyone loves you. So he has to be like that to you," Draco concluded.

"Is that what you think?"

Draco looked over at Harry, who was staring right into his eyes. For once there was no malice or hate in the gaze, it was different. Understanding? Sad? Draco didn't know what it was, but he refused to be the one to break the gaze.

"Yeah, Potter. It's what I think," Draco challenged. Harry's eyes flickered to the pensive sitting on the table.

"Alright then, you stuck up little pansy rich boy. Give me a minute with this pensive, and prepare to eat your words."

* * *

A/N: Alrighty. I'm trying to keep this down to five or six pages a chapter. I'll update as quickly as I can, I've got the first few chapters planned in my head at least, so it won't be too hard. After that, I'll be getting into the story itself, so I expect it'll just kinda…flow. 

Anywho, feel free to review. It inspires me to write more.


	3. The Not So Golden Boy

**Description:** Post OOP, AU. Greatly injured, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. Free from his father, Draco has decided that he's not dark or light, but a nice gray. What happens when Draco and Harry reach an understanding? How will Ron and Hermione, now dating, take it? Not Slash.

**Disclaimer:** Everything that appears in one of JK Rowling's books is copyright her. Everything that appears in any of the movies is copyright Warner Bros. Anything that isn't in them is mine. If someone wants to use something in their fan fic, it's fine by me, just give a little credit in the disclaimer, eh?

Chapter Three: The Not-So Golden Boy.

Harry put his wand to his temple, concentrated, and brought out a long, silver thread of a memory. Time and time again he kept doing the same thing, chanting almost a mantra of his most miserable memories in his head.

_The time I got locked in the cupboard for teleporting myself to the roof. The times Aunt Petunia tried to cut my hair and I grew it back. All the times Dudley used me for a punching bag. My mother and father dying. The dementors third year. Cedrick fourth year. Umbridge fifth year…_

Finally, after a good five minutes of silence, Harry beckoned Draco to the pensive, and with only a moment's hesitation, he entered it, Harry right behind him.

* * *

"Where are we?" asked Draco. If he didn't know better, he'd say he was in a broom closet or something, except for the cot on the floor and the bits of clothing here and there.

"This is my bedroom until I was eleven," Harry replied. "See, there I am, on the bed." Draco looked over and indeed saw a seven year old Harry sitting on his bed.

"BOY! GET OUT HERE AND COOK BREAKFAST! I HAVE TO PUT THE FINISHING TOUCHES ON DUDDY-KIN'S PROJECT!"

The little boy Harry scrambled from his bed, threw on some clothing, and almost ran out the door. Harry and Draco followed him, and Draco looked behind him.

"You lived in a cupboard?" he asked, faintly nauseated.

"Yeah. I reckon the only reason they didn't keep me in there was because my Hogwarts letter was addressed to it. By the time I came back from my first year, I couldn't fit in it anymore," Harry replied nonchalantly.

"YOU BOY! GET OVER HERE AND COOK THE BACON!" A horse faced woman with blond hair and pale green eyes sat at the kitchen table, working on gluing the last bits and pieces to a model of the solar system made out of candy for that day's science fair.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry replied.

"And you had better not eat any of Dudley's breakfast burn!" she snapped.

"Yes Aunt Petunia."

_That woman treats him like a house-elf! _Draco thought.

Dudley, a fat pig like boy with blonde hair and watery blue eyes that glinted with cruelty, chose that moment to come barreling into the room, and knock Harry into the stove. Bacon grease splattered onto his hand, and the boy cried out in pain.

"BOY! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT STANDING IN DUDLEY'S WAY?"

The new voice belonged to a man. Draco gaped at the huge gorilla like man who walked through the door. The man walked right through Draco, and that startled him enough that he missed the sight of Harry flinching.

"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon, I didn't –" Memory-Harry's protest got cut off with a backhand to his face.

"Vernon, wait to discipline the boy until he's finished with Duddy-kin's breakfast," Petunia said. "Dudley! How do you like your project?"

"I wanna eat it!" Dudley said, trying to take a lemon drop off the sun.

"No, Duddikins, you can eat it later. But I got you a bunch of leftovers so you can have those until your project is graded," Petunia said, beaming at her son. Harry was walking around the table, pouring coffee for his Aunt and Uncle, milk for Dudley, and serving all of them the bacon, then the toast and the eggs that he made. Though the family didn't seem to notice, Draco watched as the boy Harry quickly shoved two pieces of bacon that he'd hidden in the pan into his mouth, and munched on them as he started to wash the pan. He did the same thing with the eggs, but when he took the plate off the table with a piece of toast left on it, and shoved it in his mouth, Dudley (who Draco saw had eaten about four eggs, a few pieces of toast, and half of the bacon) noticed and started wailing.

"MUM! He ate the last piece of toast! I WANTED IT!"

Harry paled, and the bus beeped its horn outside.

"We'll discuss this later boy," Vernon growled.

"Yes Uncle Vernon," the boy Harry said with a resigned tone as he walked out the door dejectedly behind his cousin.

* * *

They hovered in a grey mist as Harry thought about which memory he should show Draco next.

"What happened when you got home?" Draco asked.

"Locked in the cupboard until breakfast the next day," Harry replied. Draco's eyes widened, and the grey mist disappeared again.

* * *

Harry, seemingly unchanged, was creeping through his front door. In his hand, Draco noticed, was a paper with a note on it.

"This took place about a week later," the older Harry said. Draco nodded and walked over to see the paper in Harry's hand.

**Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,**

**I am proud to inform you that Harry's science fair project, the working model of a volcano, has been selected to go on to the finals for the Junior Science Fair. This letter is to inform you that should he win an award, your presence on stage to accept the award with him as his parents is expected.**

**Congratulations again,**

**Mrs. Durnin**

"Congratulations, I think," Draco said. Harry shook his head.

"Boy! Get over here and start making rolls for dinner," yelled Petunia.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry walked over into the kitchen and put his stuff down on the table.

"Put your things in your cupboard!" she shrieked, before spying the note.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry said again. He tried to grab the letter, but she snatched it away from him. Harry sighed quietly and put his school things in his cupboard before coming back into the kitchen, washing his hands, and beginning the process of making rolls.

"Vernon!" Petunia called, "Look at what Harry has done!"

"There, Potter. Some recognition," Draco sneered.

Neither of the Harrys said anything. Older Harry was stony faced, the younger one looked ready to cry. He began rolling out the dough that his Aunt had let rise earlier, making them into roll-shapes.

"What did the boy do now, Petunia?" Vernon walked into the room, and took the note from his wife's hand. The kitchen was silent as he read over Harry's accomplishment.

"So," he said quietly, his face turning purple, "you had a project for the science fair too, did you?"

"Yes sir."

"When did you work on this? You shirked your chores boy?"

"No sir. I worked on it during recess so I would have time to do all my chores here," Harry replied. His voice was quiet, and was dripping with fear.

"Did you think it would be FUNNY to show Dudley up, eh? How DARE you get into this fair when Dudley only got an honorable mention! He worked much harder than you EVER did!" Vernon roared.

Harry let the memory fade just as Vernon started hitting the boy.

"Now for Hogwarts," he said. Draco didn't know what to say, he merely nodded.

* * *

Hogwarts seemed to last forever. In and out of the memories they traveled, and at this point Draco saw himself featured in a bunch of them. It started off with the first day of Potions, a class that showed Draco smirking with his friends while Snape tortured him relentlessly. It traveled through the incident with Norbert, the detention in the woods (again, with Malfoy) and all of the taunts (most of which were instigated by Malfoy). It even went down through the events of him, Ron, and Hermione going after the Philosopher's Stone and the terror that was running through his veins the entire adventure through the obstacles located miles below the school. Then they went into the second year. The miserable summer with the Dursleys came first, including the first encounter with Dobby while he worked for the Malfoys. Next came all the humiliating encounters with Lockhart, with more taunts from Draco in between. Especially featured in this section was the part of the second year when the entire school had believed that Harry was the heir of Slytherin, and was therefore releasing the Basilisk on the student population. It finished with the terror he felt when Ginny was captured, and the even greater terror when Riddle came out of the journal and tried to kill him. Third year was especially painful, as that was the year the dementors came to the school and as most of Harry's painful memories of that year had to deal with the dementors and seeing and hearing the deaths of his parents over and over again Draco saw Harry's eyes close in a bit of a wince. It looked to him like Harry was trying not to cry, and it got even worse once Sirius Black came into the memories. Tears did well up in Harry's eyes, especially when it came to the memory of Sirius offering to take Harry home with him.

"You know, the stuff here at Hogwarts isn't so bad," Malfoy grumbled.

"We're only finishing up my third year Malfoy," Harry replied grimly. "We haven't gotten to the graveyard, or Umbridge…or the Ministry…or this summer…"

As if mentioning them triggered it, Malfoy suddenly found himself next to himself with those 'Potter Stinks' badges. This bit was worse than the normal taunting, as Ron wasn't speaking to Harry either, and Hermione was hanging out with Ron more than Harry. This pretty much left Harry alone against the entire school. Malfoy was surprised to see that the first two tasks were not shown in the pensive, but just as he was going to break and ask about it, he found himself in a grave yard.

"Cedric."

Malfoy turned around, and saw a fourteen year old Harry and a seventeen year old Cedric behind him. His eyes widened – this was the moment that most of the school had speculated, that most of the wizarding world had speculated about.

"We need to get out of here!" Harry said in the memory.

"Kill the spare."

Wormtail raised his wand, and the two deadly words were spoken. The green light jetted out of his wand, nailing Cedric in the chest. He slumped, and the pain that went through him at Cedric's death was so thick you could almost see it in the memory. Draco certainly felt it pressing against him from all sides. The feeling didn't fade – in fact, as Voldemort came back, Draco found he was nauseated. The memories didn't stop after that though, next came the summer after words…and then the school year, their fifth year, the year that had just passed.

Umbridge was featured heavily in these memories. The torture of her constant detentions, mostly featuring her forcing Harry to carve the words 'I Will Not Tell Lies' into his own right hands made Draco go a bit pale. He knew she was having fun with him, but he didn't know how badly she'd treated him. Next, he saw Harry's memory of the one quiddich game he'd played that year. Looking at himself, Draco flushed a bit, but it was unnoticed by Harry, who had a glazed look in his eye, even as the memory Umbridge banned him from Quiddich. He saw the day that the DA was disbanded, but seeing it from a different point of view made Draco wonder if that really should have been one of the high points of his year. Then came the memory of the fiasco at the Ministry.

Draco paled even more when he saw his father from Potter's point of view. His mother was right, he was an evil bigot. He watched as Potter saw his friends go down, felt his hope rise when the Order of the Phoenix burst into the room, and saw Harry's world shatter the moment Sirius Black fell through that arch and didn't come out. From there was the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort, and Draco watched, once again, as Harry escaped from the dark wizard's clutches.

_When he was a baby, his first year, his second year, his forth year, and now the fifth year. Five times he's defied the Dark Lord so far. _The thought crossed Draco's mind, and an annoying small voice in his head spoke up.

**You couldn't defy the Dark Lord five times if your life depended on it.**

He was forced to ignore the voice for a moment as the scene flashed again, and Draco found himself in a new room at the Dursley's house.

"Dudley decided to learn how to play the drums and the guitar," Harry said. His voice was shaky and constricted, Draco got the impression he was just on this side of bawling his eyes out. "So Uncle Vernon had the basement soundproofed. But then he somehow got the idea that he could beat the magic out of me. So he added another, small room in the corner. No windows, so Hedwig couldn't get out, and no sound could get out so the neighbors would never know."

The scenes flashed by. Every beating, the time Harry burnt his uncle's hand, the belt, the tying down.

"The Order was supposed to come if I didn't write," Harry continued. "They said they would protect me."

His voice hardened up, and Draco clearly heard the rage underneath it.

"But they DIDN'T! They left me to be beaten again and again, damn near starved again and again. And then, the straw that broke it…the day I escaped…"

Draco watched the scene where his uncle tried to rape him, and gaped when Harry used a wandless stunner.

"That was just wandless magic!" Draco said stupidly.

"Yeah, I think I was only able to use it because I was panicking at the time," Harry replied with a nod. "And that's when I accidentally flooed to Knockturn Alley, crawled out of it, collapsed, and was brought here."

* * *

The boys left the pensive, and Harry took a moment to compose himself. He had been crying for Sirius between the beatings all summer, and he would be damned if he let Malfoy see him crying.

"You need to let him go Harry."

Harry looked up in surprise; Malfoy had never called him Harry.

"How the hell would you know?" Harry whispered. He got up, and started walking back to the bedroom.

"My little sister."

Harry stopped, but didn't turn around.

"You don't have a sister, Malfoy."

"Well, not anymore. Come back here and give me a minute with this thing. Or are you not Gryffindor enough to look in a pensive and see someone else's point of view?"

Harry reacted to the comment (which had Gryffindor emphasized as if it was an insult) in just the way he figured Draco hoped he would. He sat down again, and waited patiently for Draco to pull his own memories out of his head.

"My turn."


	4. Memoirs of a Dragon

Chapter Four: Memoirs of a Dragon

Draco glared at Harry, as if daring him to refuse. His mind was in a whirlwind – Potter, Golden-boy, Dumbledore's favorite, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One (A new title bestowed upon him recently by the Daily Prophet after his run in with the death eaters in the Department of Mysteries a few months back) lived such a painful life? After seeing himself from Harry's eyes, he finally understood why Harry treated him all these years. And the last bit he saw involving Harry's uncle, and how he escaped his house to end up in Knockturn Alley…it left him vaguely nauseated.

But he wasn't the only one who was going through this. There were two sides to every story, and Draco would be damned before he would let Potter scoot away, thinking he was just a spoiled, stuck up rich pansy.

"You want to show me your memories?" Harry asked, a bit bewildered.

"Chickening out, Potter?" Draco taunted as he began recalling memories to put into the pensive. "You can give the heat, but you can't take it."

Harry, who had seemed a bit hesitant at first, now glared at Draco.

"I'll watch whatever you want to show me Malfoy," he snapped back.

"There's the Gryffindor people know," Malfoy drawled, making the word 'Gryffindor' seem like an insult.

"Only a Slytherin would use a house's traits to prod them into doing something that they were going to do anyways," Harry retorted, putting the same emphasis on 'Slytherin' that Draco put on 'Gryffindor', though he did it with a smirk.

Draco didn't answer; he was too busy recalling memories to put into the pensive. When it came to Hogwarts time, he specifically recalled the memories Harry had shown him, and put the same ones in from his own point of view. Harry, meanwhile, waited patiently. Draco thought the boy was lost in his own thoughts and memories that he had to just relive, but when he finished and turned to him, Harry immediately rose. Apparently he was more alert than Draco originally thought.

"Well, Potter? You ready?" Draco sneered. Harry merely nodded. Draco gestured to the bowl, and once again the two of them fell into memories of the past.

* * *

Harry looked around. They were in an expensive looking nursery. It didn't seem right though, something was off. But what could it be? On one side was a small bed, a child sized dresser, a desk, a small piano…all things that would be in a well to do child's room. Books lined the small shelves, toys…

That was what was off. There were no toys in the room. Parchment, quills, inks, yes. Books, there were plenty of them. Toys? None.

Harry turned his attention to the small boy sitting at the desk. He had light blonde hair and silver eyes. He seemed to be writing on some parchment, stopping every once in a while as if to think about something.

"I was five," Draco said quietly. Harry nodded, and the door to the room opened, and a slightly younger Lucius Malfoy walked into the room. The boy didn't notice him; he continued writing with the quill. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Draco wince slightly. Lucius stood behind his son, and with a palpable rage grabbed the boy by the shoulder, pulled him out of his chair, and threw him on the floor.

"HOW ARE YOU TO GREET ME?" he roared. Harry winced in sympathy with the boy.

"I am sorry Father. F-forgive me. How-"

"Draco! Malfoys do not stutter!" A muttered spell, and his wand turned into a stout rid, as thick as his thumb. He hit Draco on the side with it, knocking the wind out of the boy. Tears sprang up in the child's eyes, but Harry noticed he was quick to wipe them away without his father noticing.

"My apologies, Father. I was so engrossed on the bookkeeping you wisely gave me for practice I did not hear you enter the room. I will be more alert to my surroundings from now on."

"Bookkeeping?" Harry asked. "You're FIVE for Merlin's sake, why are you bookkeeping?"

"I am the heir to the Malfoy Empire," Draco replied. 'I need to know how to do that type of thing. So do you."

"But at five? That's not reasonable!"

"It's as reasonable as making a five year old do most of the cooking and cleaning for a household."

Draco's tone was very bland with that last sentence, and Harry shot him a look of understanding. He turned his attention back to the memory, only to see Lucius looking at the sheet the boy had been doing.

"This is much better than the last attempt, Draco," his father said quietly. "Much better. You have managed to not be Crucioed today." A brief flash of relief crossed the boy's face, but it was immediately gone when his father looked at him.

"However, you must be taught to be more alert when a person enters the room. A Malfoy is NEVER caught off guard. Do you know what that means for you?"

"Lesson time," said the boy. There was barely a hint of the resigned tone of his voice, one that, most unfortunately, Lucius picked up. He backhanded the child, sending him flying, and Draco merely picked himself up.

"A Malfoy NEVER shows emotion Draco! Your lessons just got doubled. To the Dungeon. NOW."

Draco nodded, and set off through the doorway in a stately manner as the memory went grey.

"The first lesson was Malfoys don't cry," Draco said. "Soon after came a Malfoy never shows emotion. Those were always the two big ones, except for one other."

* * *

A slightly older Draco stood in a what looked like a dungeon. The perpetual cold look, with a slight sneer was already on the boy's face, something Harry now saw less as disdain, and more as a mask to hide anything that goes through his head. Lucius walked into the room, and took a look around.

"The muggle wasn't appropriately tortured, Draco," he said quietly.

"I saw no reason to bother, Father. It's just a muggle, I had more important things to do, like work on the ledger for next week," Draco replied nonchalantly. Apparently it wasn't the reasoning that Lucius was looking for, and he got angry.

"This is an important lesson, Draco! If you are to serve the Dark Lord, you must learn to torture muggles and other filth appropriately! They deserve it!"

"I thought 'A Malfoy Bows to No One'," replied Draco scathingly.

Lucius's eyes narrowed as the real Draco spoke.

"That's rule three," he explained.

"Apparently I need to re-teach you the art of pain," he said quietly. Then, without warning, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Draco's left shoulder. "POENA!"

Draco clutched his right shoulder, but tried not to say anything, even as his face paled.

"POENA!" Lucius pointed at Draco's side. Draco again clutched it, but still didn't cry out. Again and again Lucius pointed the wand at different parts of Draco's body, and again and again. Draco broke out in a sweat, but other than that he did not cry out.

Finally, Lucius stopped and just stared at him. Draco stared back coldly. He was pale, sweating, and trembling a little, but other than that said nothing.

"Go to your rooms and contemplate today's lessons Draco. Then make sure your copy of the ledger is complete, have Dobby deliver it to my desk." Lucius turned and walked out of the room, while Draco waited for him to go before moving. He walked to the corner of the dungeon, pulled a small drawer open, and grabbed what looked like a grubby silver sickle.

"Draconis," he whispered, and was immedietly swept away.

"That was Mum's way of helping me," Draco explained. "She always knew when I had a lesson, though she couldn't do anything about it, she always left a sickle in that drawer that was actually a portkey."

Harry nodded, and watched as Draco appeared in his room.

"How old were you?" Harry asked quietly.

"Ten."

Draco stumbled and collapsed on the floor, shaking. His door crept open, and suddenly a little girl Harry had never seen before ran into the room. She had silvery blonde hair like her father, but had her mother's blue eyes. She was in a dark blue dress that came down to her knees, and her hair was held back with a matching dark blue ribbon. She was wearing a small matching set of robes, and she knelt down beside Draco.

"Draco…did Father give you another lesson?" she asked quietly.

"Caitir…if he catches you here…" Draco replied; his breathing was labored.

"Draco, just let it out. Father is busy with Mr. Nott and Mr. MacNair at the moment, then I heard him telling Mother he has a meeting with the Death Eaters. You can let it out."

Caitir looked no older than five, but sounded older. Harry decided that it was an affect of living in the Malfoy household.

With that said, finally Draco broke down. He was shaking even more, and quietly sobbing while his little sister held him tightly.

"We'll get him back someday," his sister whispered. "And we can make our name as pure as he says it should be."

The ten year old Draco nodded, but just let all the tears flow. The memory began to fade.

"She was the only one to ever do that," Draco said in the silence. "She always talked about getting rid of my father, she hated what he was doing…"

Draco trailed off, and Harry let him. Part of him couldn't help being jealous, at least Draco had a little sister he could share his pain with…but then the memories formed once again.

* * *

The memories now traveled to Hogwarts. Harry saw himself as Malfoy saw him, and realized that maybe he did look like he had a big head to the untrained eye. He saw as Gryffindor denied Slytherin the house cup first year, he saw the duel with Draco from his perspective the second year, third year he saw Draco's fury and his beating afterwords when Harry got the Snitch before him, taking both the win and the Quiddich Cup. Forth year he saw Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret, and felt a huge willing of guilt for having laughed at Draco's humiliation. Other scenes, other confrontations passed on by, each one showing Draco's perspective. Harry had to admit, seeing it that way, he didn't look like the Golden Boy everyone said he should be.

But Draco wasn't done yet.

* * *

They were back in the dungeon. Harry looked around and saw a pale Draco staring at something. Harry realized that Draco looked a lot older in this…actually about the same as he did now.

"When is this?" Harry asked.

"Last Christmas."

"Draco, I'm glad to see you're here. Remember that muggle family I said you would have to torture?" Harry followed the memory-Draco's line of vision and saw that though the dungeon was dark, there was a circle of blue light around Lucius's feet, illuminating where he stood in the darkness.

"Yes, Father. Is that why you called me here?" Draco asked respectfully.

"No. See, I no longer have the muggle family for you to practice with," his father replied, "because SOMEONE decided to help them escape!"

Another pillar of light blossomed, and Harry gasped when he saw who was there. It was Caitir, hanging naked from the wall. Though she was beaten, bruised, and bloody in many different places, despite the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, Harry saw she was defiant. She looked as if she was ten or eleven now, but she held her head as high as any adult.

"SHE helped them escape Draco. She took away your lesson. So I had to have her given lessons. If she thinks those muggles are people, I told her I would have her treated like a muggle. I beat her and left her to Nott. He always was more aroused by little girls than full grown women."

Memory Draco went pale, as did Harry. Malfoy had beaten and had his own daughter raped?

"She is of no use to us, she is unclean. Draco, I am ordering you to end it. It's time you cast your first Avada Kedavra."

"NO!" Draco yelled. "ALOHAMORA!"

Caitir's locks came undone, and she hit the floor.

"CRUCIO!"

A jet of red light hit Draco square in the chest, and he began to scream.

"DRACO NO!" Caitir yelled.

"CRUCIO!" Malfoy ended his curse on Draco and began it on Caitir. Draco crawled over to her as his father tortured her some more, and held her in his lap when his father finished the curse.

"And now, Draco, you will see what happens to those who sully the Malfoy name," Lucius announced.

"NO!" Draco screamed and threw his body on top of his sister's to protect it.

"Perfectus Totalus!" His father put him in a full body bind, and with a wave of his wand rolled him off his sister. "I would have stunned you, Draco, but I want you to watch."

"AVADA…"

"Draco. Remember our plan. Do it, if not for yourself, but in my memory," the girl whispered. She did not run, but stared defiantly at her blood father, and spit at him as he finished the curse.

"…KEDAVRA!" A jet of green light shot form Lucius's wand, and hit Draco's sister dead in the chest. As if in slow motion she fell over, and the world seemed to stop as her body hit the floor.

* * *

Tears were threatening to pour out of Harry's eyes, and he saw his reaction to the memory was mirrored in both the memory Draco and the real Draco's eyes. Finally the memory faded, and the boys exited the pensive.

"I never knew," Harry whispered.

"I never knew about you either, so don't worry about it."

Draco made to leave, but just as he got to the door, Harry called out to him.

"Malfoy?" Draco turned back around to see Harry stand up and walk over to him.

"Yes Potter?"

"I'm sorry." Draco stared at him. A light touch of Legimancy showed it to be the truth – Harry Potter, the boy who lived, etcetera, etcetera, was sorry.

"…me too Potter."

"Harry."

"Excuse me?" Draco was flabbergasted.

"Call me Harry."

"Then you call me Draco," Draco replied.

"Let's start over?" Harry made it a question, to see if the Slytherin boy would agree.

"Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco said, sticking his hand out.

"Hi. I'm Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you."


End file.
